


The Lady and the Lamplighter

by theblindtorpedo



Category: Fate/Zero, ロード・エルメロイⅡ世の事件簿 - 三田誠 | Lord El-Melloi II Case Files - Sanda Makoto
Genre: Extended Metaphors, Fairy Tale Elements, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:34:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22798660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theblindtorpedo/pseuds/theblindtorpedo
Summary: A tale retold.A man with talents.A hopeful ending.
Kudos: 12





	The Lady and the Lamplighter

In a Western town, both modern and old, dwelled a Lady. Due to unfortunate circumstances the Lord, her uncle, had been incapacitated some years before. This left the local Clock Tower devoid of light, as the previous Lord had been employed in illuminating that venerable place.  
  
So the Lady, being of determined face and possessing a resourceful manner, hired a Lamplighter.  
  
The man was distressingly attractive, but passed through his life shrouded in a miasma of smoke. Whether this was a symptom of his occupation or the innumerable cigars he smoked, no one could say. His face, while youthful, had more lines than a battle map. The Lady appealed to his sense of guilt and implicated his extensive arrears such that the Lamplighter was compelled to accept the position.  
  
Over the years many new lamps fell under the Lamplighter’s jurisdiction. The pink lamp was garish and cried out in thanks when he lay his hands upon it. She left rose petals and sugar in her wake and threw a dazzling light that was magnified in her gemstone encrusted body. The brown lamp seemed to belong in a country house, surrounded by ink-stained pages and mossy woods. His light was predictable, but steady and reliable. The yellow lamp reeked of animal musk, balanced by delicate lemongrass. His light was piercing, clarifying corners and obscure mysteries.  
  
The indigo lamp caused the Lamplighter endless consternation. He exuded a beguiling scent of sea air while buoying himself on lackadaisical waves. His flame was inconsistent, at once calm and on a dime brilliantly beautiful or devastatingly savage. It took all the Lamplighter’s skill to marshal and direct the indigo lamp’s intensity. He was the brightest when he swam through the Clock Tower hallways like life sustaining blood in tired arteries. The Lamplighter could not deny the hands of jealousy gripped him at the sight, but the Lamplighter was too kindhearted to wish the indigo lamp any ill will. He felt a combative pride in his chest when he successfully chased away the dark.  
  
The grey lamp was his favorite. He tended to her with singular care and in turn she blazed for him with supernatural proclivity. This lamp he carried with him in his daily motions. She greeted him in the mornings with the smell of bergamot tea and bid him goodnight with the ashen smell of a lately extinguished hearth. He was grateful for her; truth be told, the Lamplighter had not been aware of his need for companionship until the grey lamp sent the spiders skittering from the cobwebs of his mind.  
  
He had spent years squinting through the mire of memory, chasing desert sun bouncing off sparkling sands. That was long ago, before he became a Lamplighter, when burning wind had aroused his own meager flame.  
  
The Lady was pleased with the Lamplighter’s work. Under his supervision, the Clock Tower was animated with dancing light once again. Yet, the Lady also felt sorrow for her meticulously crafted golden body felt dull in comparison. She called up the Chandler. The man was of despairingly pale complexion with a perpetual spot of blood on elegant lip. The Lady asked the Chandler to enhance her form so that she might surpass the other lamps. The Chandler took her coin with supercilious smile. He knew that no matter the extent of his adjustments the Lady would not be satisfied. From an outside perspective she had no deficit of light, but she was seduced by the promise of unlimited potential. The Chandler understood for he too had been enchanted in youth by those hands that could stoke any lamp into a miraculous spectacle. It was only a matter of time.  
  
So it came to pass that the Lady would see the fulfillment of her desire. They stood on a precipice of uncertainty, the Lady and the Lamplighter, as he passed a hand through her flame in wonderment. Neither had noticed the small sparks he had dropped upon her, year after year, that had consolidated and fed each other to transform into something marvelous. The other lamps gathered, lending their glow, so the colors blended and coalesced into a blinding beacon.  
  
In the distance, the light caught a red eye and a broad brown face beamed in recognition.  
  
The Lamplighter’s flame had always been weak. Yet here, supported by all those he touched, he was a pyre worthy of a King.


End file.
